Scrabble

Epilogue ♥

Epilogue

I absolutely hate it when you have to wait for something. Patience is just... not me, you know?

Here I am, after hearing the most absolutely beautiful thirty seconds of my life, waiting for Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major to load in that tiny Youtube window.

Argh.

Stupid Megan, I scold myself. Why did I have to press the play button when the whole thing hadn’t even loaded yet? Now I’m stuck here waiting impatiently for it to buffer because the first thirty seconds of the piece – the part that I managed to hear – was amazing.

“It’s four o’clock!” the purple clock sitting next to my laptop chimes.

Wait for it...

“Megan! Time for art class!”

I groan in response as Holly comes bouncing into my room, green headphones on her ears. “Why so glum?” she pouts, “You love art class.”

Lie. I hate art class. Don’t get me wrong, out teacher is real nice and the ambience and stuff is perfect. It’s just that... I suck at drawing. Big time.

She bobs her blonde head in time with the music pounding into her ears, doing a weird boogie-like dance in front of me. “Get ready,” she commands with a smirk.

Sticking my tongue out at her, I stand up and push her out of my room, adjusting my spectacles on my nose as I scrutinize myself in the mirror.

I’m sixteen, I inform myself, staring at my still fifteen-looking body. I scoff at myself. No way I’m sixteen, there’s no way I’ve grown up that much. No way I’m that old.

I raise both eyebrows and watch as the girl in the mirror does the same. “Well hey there,” I curtsy for her, “I’m Megan Love Couldron, and I’m sixteen years old.” Two seconds later, I burst out laughing and stumble to my closet, fishing around for decent clothes.

It’s been two days since my sixteenth birthday and I’m not used to it. At all. Holly, on the other hand, embraced her sixteen-year-old-ness with open hands. I swear she’s already informed all the people in the neighbourhood of her age. That is, if they weren’t already invited to our Sweet Sixteen birthday bash.

You can guess whose idea that was.

Once I’ve slipped on a pale blue turtleneck and white trousers, I walk out of the room to see Holly lounging in the living room with Nesta. The brunette is wearing a short pink summer dress and has her art folder in her hand.

“Ready?” Nesta smiles brightly at me.

“Um,” is all I manage to reply. When can we ever be ready for art class?

Our art teacher is…eccentric. This morning, when we finally make it to the art centre, he greets us with a life-size sculpture of a penguin.

“Sometimes I worry for him,” Cody informs me as I sit on a stool at my usual place next to him. He’s the only other person in class who shares a similar dislike toward art. Both of us are exceptionally bad at it.

“Me too,” I nod, and both of us exchange smiles. With dark blue eyes and a charming smile, Cody Magenta is probably the cutest boy I’ve ever met. You can say I nurse a tiny crush on him. Not that it matters, it’s never going to get me anywhere.

 Thanks to Cody’s sense of humour, class seems shorter than normal today. When it’s over, Nesta, Holly and I make our way to the bus stop like we usually do. This time, however, Cody joins us too.